The Simple Professor
by A Sirius Crush On Moony
Summary: Inside a Defence Against The Dark Arts lesson with the Marauders, taught by the most scatter-brained professor of the day, Hufflepuff loses many points courtesy of James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.
**This was written for 'The Outstanding OCs Contest' on HPFC. My story was to be based on one of my OCs. In this case, I've picked my favourite OC—Oswald Dibble. I hope you enjoy!**

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 **The Simple Professor**

The Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom was alive with chatter. Not a seat was empty. Well, apart from the teacher's seat. But the class were used to this—it was a known fact that the seat would remain vacant until fifteen minutes into the lesson. So, the fifth year class sat awaiting their teacher.

The door burst open, and Professor Oswald Dibble bustled into the room. He was a small, chubby man, with a bounce to his step. He wore purple robes that clung to all the wrong places, and he was wearing his signature crooked brown hat. Little curls of blond-grey hair were protruding from the bottom of his hat, a stray curl falling right in the middle of his forehead. He had full cheeks that were red and rosy in a Santa Claus fashion.

Professor Dibble was carrying a heavy tome, as he waddled across classroom to his seat at the front. He slammed the book down on the desk and let out an exhausted breath. It took him a few moments to compose himself and get his breath back before he addressed the class.

"Ah yes, class!" he squeaked. " _CLASS!_ "

The class quietened down, paying all of their attention to the professor. He took his seat and frowned at his fifth years.

"We will be going straight into the work," Dibble said. "Since you all thought it was funny to chatter amongst yourselves for the first fifteen minutes. Ah yes, don't think I didn't notice. No, it's _your_ learning that will suffer."

There was a low muttering between the students, and a couple of "but _he_ was the one that was late!" types of comments.

"Yes, just open your books. _Now_. Page twenty-seven. Quickly now!" Dibble sighed, rubbing his finger on his eyebrow in frustration. Dibble opened his own textbook to the page about werewolves.

Inside his book, he had a piece of parchment. He quickly skimmed over it.

 _Don't forget to give out house points. Remember to ask about the difference between a werewolf and an animagus. FIRST YEAR CLASS STARTS AT ELEVEN! Tea is at five. Albus wants a meeting at five-thirty—don't forget! Tell the class that you are proud of them at least once. Give homework._

He had a tendency to write himself little notes to remember things. Oswald Dibble was what one might call 'simple' or 'scatter-brained'. He would not admit to it, nor did he even notice quite how strange he was.

"Yes, ah, we are learning about werewolves today," Dibble smiled, his puffy cheeks inflating. "Who can tell me what a werewolf is? Nobody? Oh, yes. Yes, um, Mister… Snape?"

The Slytherin boy in the third row, lowered his hand and began talking. "A werewolf is half-man, half-beast. Every full moon he transforms into a wolf. Werewolves can't-"

"—Oh no, young man!" Dibble yelled, putting his hand up. "No, no, no. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You answered my question, did you not? No need to show off with more knowledge. Um, I guess… ten points to Hufflepuff."

"It's Slytherin," Snape muttered, looking bored.

"Yes, yes. Werewolves are humans for most part of the time, but on the full moon, they will transform into a wolf. Who can tell me anything about a werewolf transformation? Yes, Miss Evans?"

The red headed girl who had raised her hand smiled. "A werewolf transformation is very painful for the man or woman going through it. Every bone in the body breaks, and the muscles expand and stretch in a way that they become a completely different form. By the end of it, they become a wolf. They don't know what they are doing when they are in wolf form. It isn't until they wake up that they can remember what happened."

Dibble nodded away throughout her entire answer. "Oh, yes. Very well! Ten points to Hufflepuff!"

"I'm in Gryffindor, Sir," Evans said politely.

"Of course! Yes, yes. So there we have it. Now who can tell me how you become a werewolf?"

A couple of people raised their hands this time. "Oh, yes. Sirius Black?"

Sirius Black was the only student in the fifth year class that Professor Dibble knew his full name. Dibble didn't really attempt to learn full names or houses of students, but the Black family was famous. How could he _not_ know who Sirius Black was?

"You become a werewolf by getting bitten by one," Sirius Black said.

"YES!" Dibble said excitedly. "Ten points to Hufflepuff!"

"Gryffindor," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know, young boy. Now who can tell me the difference— _MISTER POTTER WILL YOU STOP TALKING!"_

The boy in the back row with untidy black hair and glasses immediately ceased chatting away animatedly with his chubby blonde friend.

"Sorry, Sir," Potter shrugged, not looking the slightest bit sorry.

"Oh sorry you _will_ be. You too, Mister Petticoat!"

"It's Petti _grew_ ," the blonde boy said, looking irritated.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Not that tone. Not with _me_. I am your elder, and your professor. Detention! Both of you!"

The two boys exchanged glances.

"And twenty points from Hufflepuff!" Dibble screeched. The boys smiled and shrugged. "You think this is funny? How about twenty points from Hufflepuff… _each_!"

"Oh, darn it," Potter said.

"Yes, definitely!" Dibble said.

"They are in Gryffindor, Sir," Snape said. "Not Hufflepuff."

"Yes, silly boy. If you say so. Now, back to work. Who can tell me the difference between an animagus and a werewolf?"

Dibble could see that the boy whose name he could not remember had his hand up. He looked anywhere but the boy. This boy was a werewolf. It would be inappropriate for him to answer werewolf questions in class in case anybody would find out that he was a werewolf. Dibble desperately searched for another hand.

He let out a loud sigh of relief when Sirius Black put his hand up.

"Yes, Sirius Black!"

"I think Remus has his hand up," Sirius Black said, shrugging and nodding towards the werewolf boy whose name must be Remus.

Dibble gritted his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to tell Sirius Black that he would be losing house points, but he knew he shouldn't.

"Yes, _Remus_?" Dibble said, looking in the boys' direction, but not at his face.

"An animagus can turn into an animal at will. They will have full memories of who they are and what they are doing, whereas a werewolf—as someone said before—loses their conscious mind when they are transformed."

"Oh," Dibble trembled. "Yes. _YES_. Ten points to Hufflepuff, young man!"

"It's Gryffindor," Remus sighed. Dibbled nodded.

"Yes, yes, if you say so. Finally, to end the lesson. Yes, it was over so quick. Only because you all were chatting so much to begin with! Silly children, you are. Who can tell me what silver does to a werewolf?"

"It burns them," Potter said.

" _MISTER POTTER, DO NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN!_ "

Professor Dibble's already red face had gone redder, but not out of cheery rosiness. It was anger.

"I did not ask you to answer the question. But you did get it right. But I did not ask you, no. So a further ten points shall be taken from Hufflepuff, okay?"

Potter nodded. "Okay, sounds good."

Professor Dibble wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, and shut his book. "End of class. Oh, no. Not yet. _Don't_ start standing up."

The students who had started moving out of their seats sighed and sat back down.

"Homework!" Dibble said excitedly. He was just pleased he had remembered. "A ten inch essay about werewolves by next lesson. When is it?"

"It's tomorrow, Sir," someone piped up.

"Oh, well you'd better hurry then. Quick, chip chop!" Dibble said. "Get going!"

The class shuffled out of the room, leaving Professor Dibble alone. As soon as the last student was gone, he let himself smile.

All in all, a great lesson. He looked at the clock, and it was ten-thirty. He had enough time to walk around the Hogwarts grounds for some fresh air before his next lesson at eleven-fifteen. He deserved it, after all. He was very pleased with himself.

 **~The End~**


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